


rebuild when we break down

by phloridas



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, and that i still think about a lot, based on phil's comments from the last gaming video, which i think a lot of us can relate to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phloridas/pseuds/phloridas
Summary: Sometimes, disasters like to force their way into Phil's brain, eclipsing reality until he's forced to deal with them head-on. It's not easy, but they'll make it through.Because that's just what Dan and Phil do, isn't it?





	rebuild when we break down

It’s not like Phil could turn his brain off. As much as he wanted to, needed to tear that darkness to shreds, leaving him with only sunny days and a chest that doesn’t constrict at the slightest discomfort, it’s just not that easy.

Often taking the form of disasters that Phil knows (he _knows_ ) are statistically improbable, these scenarios shove everything else from his mind, demanding to be played before his eyes like some sick horror movie starring him and Dan. Sometimes it feels like they’re out to ruin the best moments of his life.

Like now, on this island country that’s captured his and Dan’s hearts since they both were children.

Their dream holiday.

In this unfamiliar place, his heart nearly exploding in fondness for the beauty both before him and beside him, it takes everything in Phil to keep from clinging to Dan’s shoulders and pointing out every silken cherry blossom and the way the sun makes little rainbows in the birdbaths.

He’d moved _everything_ around for this. Pushed back tour planning meetings, negotiated advances with their publisher, watched thousands of pounds fly from his bank account as he slammed his finger down on the mouse to book the plane tickets. They need this holiday.

So what’s with Phil’s stomach cramping like he had a plate of bad sushi as the tiny lift carries them up 450, 500, six _hundred_ metres?

It’s not that he’s afraid of heights or anything. At least, as far as Phil’s aware. He had suggested this place, after all. It’s sure to be the peak of his and Dan’s search for the best views in the world. And so far, the thrill of resting his head against Dan’s shoulder while he let the glimmering city lights sink into his skin had sparked a match deep in his stomach to warm his entire body. It was nice.

Until he had to tear himself away from Dan’s side and face the ever-increasing scratching at his insides.

The doors slide open far quicker than Phil expects, and he, Dan, Duncan, and Mimei step into an octagonal sea of glass boasting the best views of Tokyo. It _is_ quite gorgeous. But it’s a bit dizzying at the same time.

Especially when he considers the twelve panes of glass in the center of the floor.

Who the hell had the idea to put those there anyway? A shiver courses down Phil’s spine as he pictures the disaster sure to happen if too much weight settled on the glass, or if a blast of wind slammed into the tower. Speaking of slamming…

_No_. _That’s enough, Phil. There won’t be any planes crashing into this tower, tonight or ever. You’re_ fine.

He still squeals and scurries off when Dan dares him to jump on it, as Phil knew he would. Dan must catch the way he bites his lip and pulls his arms tighter around himself, as Phil barely registers a tiny pressure on his shoulder and a phone sliding back in his pocket.

“Hey. Everything good?”

It’s only three whispered words, but it opens a rush of emotions strong enough for Phil to press his side against Dan’s, attempting to bring himself back to reality. Dan shuffles them to a nearby bench

“Well. If that isn’t a loaded question,” Phil finally replies.

Where does Phil even start? He’s not about to give Dan the crease in his forehead that always comes when he divulges these strange fantasies. Not on this holiday. His heart bangs against his chest.

Dan’s voice rises slightly but doesn’t lose that gentle cadence. “Start with what’s going through your head right now. What are you thinking about?”

Something shifts in Phil’s chest, making his heart swell. It’s only been a few months but therapy has already done wonders for Dan.

“I guess…” Phil starts, “I dunno, it’s really stupid, but like...I feel like it was kinda dumb of me to run off like that. Like, it’s just some panes of glass on the ground. Obviously they built this place to be safe. I just...I feel like I’m too old to be freaking out about this, you know?” He exhales, his breath shaking a bit on the way out.

Dan’s arm snakes around Phil’s waist, imperceptible to the other tourists and Japanese citizens but the motion is so familiar it warms Phil from the inside out. “Is it the worst case scenarios again?”

Of course he knows. How does he always do that? Phil squeezes his eyes shut against Dan’s neck and breathes in. Dan smells like home, and something fresh that can only be described as Japanese nature. Phil nods.

“Well, I won’t tell you to just shove them away because I know that’s not always possible. But I’m here if it ever gets too much. I promise.”

Maybe it doesn’t completely loosen the pinching feeling in his chest. But it helps.

And for now, that’s enough.

 

**

“Oh god. Oh shit no. Ph--Phil?”

Phil knows that tone. It twists a knife in his gut, deeper than the one that pierced him when their car was ten, fifteen minutes late before he finally checked his phone and realised.

But he’s not about to have another Phil Lester freak out. They’re no strangers to airport issues--Dan especially these last few months. The plane doesn’t take off for another hour and a half. It may be a tight squeeze but they’ll make it.

Positive thinking, right?

He pulls in a breath, then follows Dan’s voice to find him nearly immobile beside the bed, except for his shaking shoulders. There’s a storm brewing behind his eyes, directed inwards in a way that sends Phil’s heart crashing against his chest.

Despite the rattling in his brain, Phil’s voice is soft. “Dan? Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” He reaches a hand out, then pulls it back just as quickly to clasp it against his other hand. Someone has to keep it together here. Even if it’s just by a single thread.

“It...shit fuck, it is, Phil.” Dan’s eyes are trained on the ground, flitting between the countless jeans and jumpers thrown about like earthquake casualties. “I can’t find my passport.”

There’s a pause. Then Phil stumbles back as the weight of Dan’s words crawls under his skin and echoes in his head. Something flits around the corners of the room, hovering by the shoe rack and the straightener Phil never bothered to pick up from the floor that morning. He can’t quite catch hold of it.

He kind of doesn’t want to, though.

“A--alright,” Phil starts, curling his fingers around the black teddy bear lampshade. It burns his palm, matching the heat pulsing in his stomach and crawling down his arms. “It’s fine, I’m sure it’s fine. It’s not like the thing just grew a brain and flapped itself out of here.”

Dan finally lifts his eyes from the ground to shake his head at Phil, his lips slightly parted. It sparks something deep inside Phil, pushing at the knots currently making up his muscles. A hint of force pushes its way into his tone. “We’ll find it. It’s in here somewhere, I promise you,” he says.

Then his phone chimes.

Phil slides it from his pocket with shaking fingers, fighting every urge to throw it out the window. Whoever the fuck it is, now is _not_ the time.

A tsunami of disasters plays before his eyes just before he checks th _e_ message, ranging from his family in mortal peril to VidCon suddenly getting cancelled to their plane taking off early.

But it’s just their driver. He’s outside, ready whenever they are, apparently.

Wait. He’s _outside?_

Phil tosses his phone on the bed like it’s on fire, then runs his hands through his fringe, short nails digging at his scalp. “So, uh. Our driver’s here. So that cuts down our time, like...a lot.”

Dan’s frozen for a second, then flies into action, zipping his suitcase closed and wheeling it towards the front door in an impressive sprint, considering its weight. Phil just stands there, hands shaking and brain racing faster and faster with the horrors they’re sure to face now. Heat rises in his core, his arms, his legs, like he’s done something shameful. And maybe he has, if he can just figure the damn thing out.

Then something’s floating before Phil’s eyes, frayed at the edges but as clear as if it were happening right now.

It’s a scene just like this one. Dan and Phil are sharing looks of horror and turning the room upside down in search of something as Phil’s heart threatens to break free from his chest. He’s lost in the memory for a few seconds before it hits.

That was Phil’s dream from last night. He dreamed Dan would lose his passport. He _made_ this happen.

He flops backwards onto the bed, burying himself in a pile of black jeans and oversized jumpers.

The front door slams, sounding far away. Dan flies into the room seconds later. He clamps a hand around Phil’s suitcase handle, ready to pull that out too without a word. Then he glances back.

The way Dan’s face just _crumbles_ , like Phil’s a lost puppy he can’t help feeling pity for, only quickens the crawling under Phil’s skin. Phil should never be the cause of that look.

How come every time Dan whips into action, Phil just _freezes?_

It takes a moment to recognise the arms snaking around his shoulders and for a brief second, Phil considers shaking them off. He shouldn’t need this. He should be helping Dan tear the room apart for that little blue rectangle. But _god_ does it feel good.

He closes his eyes as Dan’s fingers slide amongst his own, tugging at each one until they’re no longer curled against his palm and instead curled tight against Dan’s. All their mistakes pile up inside Phil until he’s squeezing his eyes shut against the horrendous ache in his chest. He squeezes Dan’s hands, too, with the force of all his self anger, then lets out a choked huff. It helps.

“Babe, what _is_ it?” Dan’s voice echoes the pain ripping at Phil’s insides. There’s a hint of uncertainty in Dan’s tone, even after eight years. Dan doesn’t usually have to see this. He should never have to. Phil’s pretty good at keeping these freakouts self-contained.

“Dan. I dreamed this. I made this happen.”

“What?”

Phil’s next words arrive as a shout choking with tears. “I dreamed you lost your passport, Dan! Psychic Phil strikes again! I…I’m the reason we’re gonna miss VidCon. I booked that car an hour late. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Phil. Of course.” Dan’s words may be automatic but they’re backed with so much emotion that Phil feels a bit of the weight fly from his shoulders. His thumbs trace slow circles around Phil’s palms. “We’ve had a lot going on these last few weeks. But we’ll get through this too. I promise.”

How can Dan think of smiling at a time like this? Still, his dimples are so damn gorgeous that Phil can’t help but grin a little.

“See?” Dan says. “Now, I don’t wanna rush you but we’re kinda on a tight schedule here. Do you think you can…?”

But Phil’s already on it, unzipping his suitcase on the off chance Dan’s passport ended up in there and sends his neatly folded shirts flying across the floor. Dan kneels beside him and does the same, biting back the beginnings of a massive grin. Concentration is a good look on him.

The paralysing fear may not have completely lifted, but Phil’s brain has cleared enough to reveal a single thought, playing over and over.

He and Dan were _not_ going to miss VidCon. Especially when this one may well be their last.

 

**

Phil’s not a jealous person.

If anything, the last eight years have only sealed his belief that Dan is nobody’s but his. Not in a cocky way, more of a comfortable Dan-sized burrow in his heart kind of way that only grew each time they shared each other’s space.

So how come his fingers are squeezing tighter and tighter around his phone case?

It’s stupid. He knows his fans are just having a bit of fun. Prince William probably doesn’t have a gay bone in his body. The photographer just happened to capture a moment of intense concentration.

There’s no reason for his heart to squeeze as countless gilded invitations flash before his eyes. Invitations that don’t even exist, mind you.

Hadn’t Phil been the one to nudge Dan towards this anyway? Of course he’d been bullied too but that was far in the past and besides, divulging just how deeply it had seeped into his mind didn’t exactly fit the AmazingPhil image. Plus, Dan needs something that’s just for him.

But is he feeling alright? Phil remembers how empty the bed was for much of last night, how even he couldn’t sleep without that squishy warmth pressed against him. Was Dan treating himself alright? Was the stress nearly enough to break him, or was he able to power through it?

He obviously made it there just fine but what about going home? What if he’s pulled aside for something and the taxi leaves without him, or that delay puts them in the middle of some freak London traffic? People drive like _idiots_ during rush hour.

The incessant squeezing starts in his chest again.

He throws his phone face down on the sofa, rubbing his temples as a moment from that morning flutters out from the corner of his brain he’d attempted to shove it in.

Of course it was nothing. Of _course_. He’s in love with Dan, nobody can change that.

Not even a stupid giggling receptionist at the optician’s.

It’s not really her actions that set Phil’s skin crawling, though. No, it’s something deeper, begging for examination.

Was it something about him? Is Phil just too nice? Is there something about his face that makes people think he’s available, that he’s got any interest in flirting? Dan’s always saying he needs to be more assertive. But how the hell do you let someone down gently?

Better yet, how the hell does he handle the questions he’s sure to get once he says he’s taken?

_Stop. You’re thirty-one now. That’s way too old to be overthinking every damn thing._

Still, a piece of him is glad Dan wasn’t there to witness the optician assistant incident.

_Dan..._ he should be finishing up by now, right?

Phil’s scrambling for his phone, suddenly needing to hear from his Dan.

_His_ Dan.

It’ll be way too hectic to call so he sends a text, fingers shaking so hard that his phone falls to the sofa once he’s done.

**Phil:** Hey how’d it go? Have you met any inspiring kids?

His heart aches even as he slams his thumb down on the “send” button. There’s a gaping hole in his chest, knowing the words are so far from what he’s really thinking.

**Dan:** god yeah i can’t wait to tell you about it. but hey hbu? any more optician horror stories i should be worried about?

Of course Dan sees right through him. There’s a scratching growing inside Phil, crawling higher and higher until it looms before him, forcing Phil to address it.

It _hurts_. It hurts the way his father’s remarks about his masculinity (or lack thereof) buried deep in his skin and weighed down his bones. But this is so much more.

It pulls at his heart until he’s sure it’ll burst through his chest, stretches the gaping hole until it feels all-consuming, like his body is one giant void and he’s floating off somewhere to the side. He has to ask, though. Because somehow, leaving it as a question hurts more than any answer.

**Phil:** It doesn’t really bother you when people flirt with me right?

Moments later, his phone is ringing.

“Phil.” Dan’s choking back giggles. “Is there a hot new optician I should be worried about?”

“Assistant, actually,” Phil sighs. “And of course you’ve got nothing to worry about. Unless,” his stomach clenches, “it really does bother you a lot more than you’ve been letting on?”

He hates how small his voice sounds. He shouldn’t have to question his place with Dan. He doesn’t go around policing Dan’s actions—mostly because he doesn’t need to.

He shouldn’t need to police his own, either.

It’s Dan’s turn to sigh, but not out of exasperation. It may be just a tiny sound but the its weight settles on Phil’s shoulders and pulls his knees closer to his chest. “Well, this goes without saying but you are gorgeous, Phil. Of course there’s gonna be people who want a bit of that. But we’re both a lot older now. And I know there’s not a single person who could ever make me feel threatened.”

Something warm is set alight in Phil’s stomach, growing bigger and bigger as Dan continues. “I’m not leaving, Phil. Even if you do manage to snag Chris Evans’ number.”

He twists the collar of his sparkly black jumper around and around his finger, smiling to himself. “Good. Just checking.”

“And before you ask, no, I won’t be getting an invite to Kensington Palace anytime soon. Prince William’s lovely and all but he had his own shit to deal with at this thing.”

“I wasn’t—“

“Yeah, but you were thinking it.”

There’s a tickle deep in his gut. Phil sighs again, feeling the pressure on his shoulders finally flutter off with his breath. “I love you, Dan. You’ll be home soon?”

Phil can hear Dan’s smile as he answers, “Yeah, ‘course. We got a lucky break with traffic today.”

And when Dan gets home with darkened eyes and a face ready to crack at the slightest provocation, Phil just pulls him into his arms and holds him there for a long time. Because Dan’s been there for all of Phil’s panicking. So of course Phil’s there when Dan’s brain threatens to pull him under.

They’re there for each other--through the messy moments, the soaring moments, and everything in between.

That’s just what Dan and Phil do.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://phloridas.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/phloridas) @phloridas! And thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Title creds: Pluto by Sleeping At Last


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